


All That Glitters

by leggyfae, VictoriannWings



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Butterfly, F/F, Fairy, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Freckles, Glitter, M/M, Moth - Freeform, Multi, Pixie - Freeform, Seelie, Smut, Unseelie, Wings, ashthewitch, eruri - Freeform, faerie - Freeform, forest, it's great, jeanmarco, jeanmarco au, levihan - Freeform, mermaid, mostly this is Jean being angsty in the forest Marco driving him crazy, vampire, victoriannwings, violettewings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyfae/pseuds/leggyfae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriannWings/pseuds/VictoriannWings
Summary: Jean Kirstein is a vampire who is tricked into entering faerieland, by none other than a certain freckled, sassy fae boy. All Jean wants is to go home, but Marco seems to be leading him in circles... The threat of war hovers above them and Jean may not make it out of this alive. JeanMarco AU.





	1. The Forest

Every year for All Hallow's Eve, King Erwin would host a huge gala. He'd invite dozens of people from across the globe; everyone awaited their invitations eagerly, hoping with bated breath that they would receive the glimmering scroll, allowing them to brag that they were, in fact, invited to the Royal Family's All Hallow's Eve Gala. Thousands of gold coins were spent on food and decorations and entertainment for that one night, more than for any other celebration in an entire year, for All Hallow's Eve was the only day during the year when vampires could walk in the sunlight. All spirits are seen in the daytime on this day, and the undead are no different. So King Erwin and his consort, King Levi, spared no expense in celebration.

Jean honestly thought that the whole thing was ridiculous. Spending that much money on perishables that would have to be tossed out the next night because they'd gone bad? Spending months in advance scouring the globe for new talent – singers, actors, dancers, magicians – who would get that one shining moment of glory, only for it to be torn away once the celebration was over? Wasting over half of the planned budget on redecorating the entirety of the castle, only to switch it back the next week? It was a waste, an endless, pointless, ridiculous waste--useless, unnecessary. For only one day could they walk in the warm sun, see the sunrise and the light of day, gaze upon the beauty of day-blooming flowers. 

But Jean had grown up in the darkness of the vampire world until Erwin adopted him to raise as the heir to the throne, and he was turned at age twenty-one. He had spent much of his childhood before being chosen out in the sun with other children. And having only recently been turned, the sun was not a luxury to him; not in the way it was for Erwin or Levi, who had been turned later in life, but so, so long ago that neither of them remembered what it felt like to stand in the light. 

 Jean couldn't begin to understand the frivolous expenditures, and having to sit through hours of tailoring his suit, and hours of bickering whether or not this shade of red was better than that shade; the silliness of it all brought him close to frustrated tears at times.

But still, Jean couldn't deny the fact that, all things considered, he loved the All Hallow's Eve party. The celebration. The excited buzz in the air. The joy. The friendly camaraderie between those who'd been fighting since the dawn of time, setting aside their differences to enjoy one beautiful night, and day, together. Dancing for hours in masks made to hide your face but not your status. Helping himself to the wide arrangement of hors d'oeuvres in the next room over (all of whom had gladly volunteered). Yes, Jean loved it all. What he didn't love was--

“Hey, why don't you talk to her?”

\-- Eren.

“I mean, she won't bite.”

There was that nagging, annoying, in-your-business voice that Eren only regaled Jean with.

“And it never hurts to ask.”

Jean wanted to smack him. He wanted to enjoy this night, the first Gala he’d assisted planning, without having to play nice with his most annoying brother, and the frustration made him want to grind his teeth together.

“And you are a prince, so, even though you can't offer her much, you can always offer her money.”  
Even without looking at him, Jean could tell that Eren was giving him The Look. Side eyes, stupid lopsided grin, biting his tongue, wiggling his eyebrows. The I bet you could get some if you bucked up Look.

Jean groaned. “Shut up, Eren.” He wanted to tear his hair out. He'd been pining over Mikasa for years, doodling poems on his journal pages about her dark hair and deep eyes, but he'd almost never spoken to her, and Eren had noticed.

"Seriously, dude, money gets all kinds of girls going. Probably even Mikasa," Eren continued. "All you gotta do is like, baby, I can give you everything you ever wanted or needed, and she’d go weak at the knees.” Eren bumped their shoulders together and raised an eyebrow before pretending to swoon. “Oh, Jean. You rich, horsefaced man, buy me the world and I’m yours.” Jean just glared. Better to deal with Eren’s teasing, then to start something and potentially get ridiculed for the rest of his immortal life. “Money is the only thing that can get you my love, Prince Jean.”

Maybe that was true for most girls, who wanted to secure status and financial security, but Mikasa was already Eren's guard, a human who held one of the highest ranks and offices in the royal vampire community, and Jean highly doubted she'd be interested in forsaking that rank. He shook his head, watching her speak with his adoptive sister, Princess Annie, against the far wall. He could see Mikasa's dark braids framing her face through the revolving sea of dancing people in between them. "No, Eren," Jean murmured, almost wistful, "I think I'll let her be."

"You're just a coward, you're avoiding her because you're afraid you'll be rejected." Eren smirked again, crossed his arms, and elbowed Jean out of his reverie. Jean's eyes flashed with anger and he stepped closer to Eren, placing a hand on his chest and giving it a slight shove.

"And you're an annoying, nosy bastard who needs to learn when to fuck off," he responded, but his timing was horrible. The music had died down as the musicians changed songs and Levi just so happened to be walking right behind him. It would have been fine had he not been so frustrated and spoken so loudly, catching the attention of all those around them. 

Levi swooped down on the two of them and had them by the collars within seconds. "Is that the kind of language we use at an event like this?" he hissed, nails digging into the skin at the base of his and Eren's necks.

Jean searched for somewhere to look--anywhere but the flashing gray eyes in front of him and the fangs, bared and glinting. Eren, eyes wide and mouth agape, looked equally as terrified. 

"It wasn't that, it was just--"

"Quiet." Levi silenced them and dropped them back to their feet; Jean stumbled. 

The room went silent, staring at them all, as Eren sheepishly stared at the floor and Jean rubbed his neck self-consciously. Levi had been the one to turn him, a few years back, and Jean could still remember the slice of those fangs into his aching jugular. 

"You two are in more trouble than I care to explain right now. Report for cleaning in the trophy room, I'll inform you of the rest of your punishment after I've spoken with Erwin," he commanded, and disappeared with a whirl of his cape. 

The room continued to stare at them, until finally the chatter started up again building over the soft cello in the background, then, once again, the party drowned out their speech. 

"That was really smooth," Eren groaned, elbowing Jean. 

“You're one to talk,” he snapped back, then shook his head. He'd lost sight of Mikasa, and the shame at being publicly embarrassed left his skin prickling. "Let's go, then. The sooner we go, the sooner we get this over with."

They had to wind through several inner passages to reach the trophy room, a tall, stately room with endless rows of shelves and cases, all categorized by the vampire, human, or werewolf whom had won it. Mostly, the room contained vampire-related awards, as most of the royal family and advisers surrounding them were vampires, but a few humans received a trophy of note, and often they were stored here. 

Because many of the trophies had been collecting dust for centuries or longer, the room smelled like must and mildew, and Jean began to cough when they entered. 

"I still think you're a coward," Eren stated. He picked up a particularly tarnished metal cup and wiped away a thick coating of dust. "And not just about Mikasa, you know. You don't ever stand up to anyone. Yeah, Levi's scary, but he's pretty cool once you actually sit down and talk to him. I know you have all of this angst because he turned you, but you just need to get over yourself. You chose this," he reminded him, rolling his eyes. 

Jean whirled on Eren. "I chose this," he echoed, voice spitting with rage, "I chose this, but it's not exactly what I expected. I don't think I understood what it means to never die." He swallowed; he hadn't meant to express that to Eren, but flashes of anger made him want to boil over and explode on the other vampire. "I have a duty to perform, here, and I am honored to have been given this opportunity. To become the next king and rule, to care and provide for our people. But," his eyes narrowed, "I didn't know I would wake up in the middle of the night remembering the sting of his fangs in my neck." Jean swallowed, and resisted the temptation to rub his neck again. 

Eren listened to his speech, then raised his eyebrows incredulously. "He scared you that much, huh?" He snickered, then changed his tone to a lilting tease. "You can't stand up to Levi, he hurt you one time and you're still scared. You can't ask out Mikasa. You can't face your feelings about anything. Or anyone. And now you're too much of a wimp to own up to me, either. You're just a whiny coward who will never be able to stand up for himself. Erwin couldn't have chosen a worse replacement."

Jean's fists clenched and unclenched. "Fuck you, Eren. I'm not coward. And I'll prove it."

Eren laughed, his eyes darkening. His tone changed, then, and a grin grew, spread across his face like a rash, sardonic and vicious. "Prove it? Prove it how? Are you going to own up to Levi? No," he shook his head, smirking darkly, "Actually, I know how you could really prove it. You would be able to show you're not a coward and that you're fit to rule. Because everybody knows a King has to be fearless."

Jean crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. Truth be told, he'd spent every day since being turned wondering if he was really ready for this. If he was capable of facing every challenge a King needed to accomplish. Nightmare after nightmare haunted him, and he woke most nights cold and clammy in his coffin, unwilling to lift the lid and face the night. Sometimes, too, he huddled down in his coffin, trembling, equally afraid to sleep lest the nightmares returned. Eren merely voiced the things his thoughts told him every day, and Jean flashed his fangs in anger. 

"Fine. I'll do it." Jean, jaw set in hardened resolve, grabbed at Eren's collar and dragged him near. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Eren shoved Jean's hand off his shirt, stood up straight and laughed again. "You'll never be able to do it, but you should enter the Lost Forest," he sang, then lightly punched Jean's shoulder. "It's okay, if you're too much of a coward, I understand. It's not for the faint of heart."

Jean whirled on Eren again, but grit his teeth and backed down. "I'll do it," he repeated. "Let's go. Now."

Eren's eyes widened, just the barest amount; if Jean hadn't been so close to him he wouldn't have noticed. Clearly, the other prince didn't expect Jean to accept. "Yeah. Okay." He swallowed a little.  
They called it the Lost Forest because the faeries lived there, and the forest's true border was almost impossible to find. But when one did find it, one almost never returned, especially the human and vampire kind, for only fae could travel between the worlds. There were a thousand ever-changing rules and unspoken spells that could bind you to the forest. Jean had never heard tale of a vampire who entered and returned. 

A flicker of doubt crossed through his mind, but Eren followed him outside, and Jean couldn't back down now. Not now. He needed to prove himself--he needed to know that he could do this, not just for Eren, but also himself. And that's what fueled each step forward.  
Until they reached the edge of the forest, its tall trees towering over them. The world was strangely silent, no forest creatures or crickets or birds or anything to make a peep, the wind not even rustling a single leaf. Jean stood, staring forward. 

"Okay," he declared, chin high. "I'm going to enter."

The fear had been bred into him, since he was little and growing up human in the vampire courts, raised to become prince and heir and never go near the forest. Horror story after horror story, stakes in hearts or just disappeared individuals never heard from again, echoed through his soul in this moment. Every fiber of his being shook. He burned with fear, his body screamed at him to turn back. Save himself. Never look back.

But he'd already come so far.

He took another step forward. 

Eren gasped and shook his head, stumbled backward. "Naw, man, I think I just saw a faerie in there! Dark wings and lightning magic!"

Jean tossed a haughty laugh over his shoulder, hoping he appeared tough. "Who's the coward now? I'm going to enter."

"I think we should go back," Eren said, eyes wide and serious. 

Jean looked at him, and held his hands behind his back in an effort to keep them still. "You go back, then. I'll come find you when I've returned."

Eren hesitated, but looked like he'd never wanted anything more. "I think you should come back, Jean. I think you've proved yourself already."

Jean flashed his fangs again, the anger coiling up inside him like a spring, ready to pour all over Eren. He needed this; he needed to know he could do this, become ruler of the vampire world, instead of spending every moment of his life in fear. He'd already come so far, and now he felt like he stood on the brink of a decision that would dictate what kind of ruler he was going to be. Turning back meant turning back on his future. Turning back meant walking with his fear for the rest of his life. 

Determined, he glared at Eren. "I'll see you back at the castle," he growled, and strode forward. The Forest smothered him in darkness, drew him in, and he couldn't help feeling like he'd passed the point of no return. Like he'd entered a new realm and a new world.

Without a glance back, Jean continued on.


	2. Freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean meets a faerie who won't play fair.

Muttering, Jean trudged through the edge of the trees, dark and forboding, a smattering of leaves along the brush trail. This was not how he had planned to spend his evening--in fact, he was supposed to be back at the palace with Eren. 

Eren. That prick. Jean kicked a stick in frustration. If that little twerp had kept his mouth shut, neither of them would have been in this mess. Huffing, Jean took a few more steps forward. The forest seemed to grow closer right as he slowed his pace, almost as if the forest moved up to meet him. Like a formidable enemy, awaiting him. He stopped, hesitated, questioning himself now that he was alone. Some of his fellow vampires had said if you enter the Lost Forest, you can never return. Jean's fingers trembled and he clasped his hands together. He'd heard a thousand rumours about vampires who sought it out or stumbled upon it and were never seen again. And now he stood in the face of it, unable and unwilling to turn back. He swallowed.

Jean's chest rose and fell. His hands shook--he didn't know when that had started, but never in his life had they shook before. With a snort of indignation, he drew himself up to his full height. Jean Kirstein didn't chicken out, he told himself. That's what he'd told Eren. A coward--ha! What were a few trees to prove his bravery?

He took another step forward.

But then again...he'd be in huge trouble if word got out that he'd visited the Lost Forest. Jean wouldn't ever be allowed to roam the castle or grounds, or get to see anyone or anything. He'd be stuck in isolation for an eternity. And he couldn't bare the shame of that idea, either. Especially since they'd already been grounded when they snuck out.

But if he went back, Eren would still think he was a coward.

If Jean went back, _he_ would think he was a coward. 

That thought haunted him more. His feet moved forward of their own accord, it seemed. His eyes took in the wide array of greens and golds and browns of the forest, shifting with the light, with the shadow. Soon he stood amongst the trees, a cool breeze tousling his hair, and he let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. 

After a moment to get his bearings, he shook himself off and took another few steps deeper into the forest. This wasn't so bad, he thought. It wouldn't hurt to explore a little. The forest was actually pretty nice once he let himself relax.

Jean stepped around a thick oak tree and found himself on the edge of a clearing. Thousands of tiny little flowers and dense grasses carpeted the meadow in front of him, and he swept his gaze around, taking it all in--

A glint of gold caught his eye and he turned.

A boy--no, a young man sat perched on a stump at the far end of the clearing, and his eyes practically shone. Dark chestnut hair fell loosely to his ears in a short cut, and his chin perched on top of folded knuckles. What could only be called an impish grin slowly spread across his lips, revealing glinting, rounded teeth. 

But what captivated Jean the most was the smattering of brown-gold freckles across the youth's cheeks, down his arms, all over his skin, but thickest on his plump, smiling cheeks. They sparkled and caught the light, drew every speck of the sun in towards the man, making him the center of everything in the clearing.

The young man cocked his head to the side, still grinning, still shining, and spoke. His voice warmed Jean from the inside out, silky and smooth like milk. "Come closer, handsome."

Jean tossed a glance over his shoulder, unsure to whom the boy was speaking. Surely it couldn't be him?

But the boy beckoned, his knees swinging. "That's right, I'm talking to you. Come here. I have something to show you." 

Swallowing, Jean stepped forward. The grass curled around his boot, hugged it, as if pulling him forward. The breeze swept his bangs off his forehead and he could have sworn he saw silvery dust fall from the boy's hair to the ground, like stardust. Everything shone, the clearing sparkled, but the young man glowed more than all of it put together.

Jean began to pad forward still further, and time seemed to slow, as if turning his head to look back would be like looking backward in time. He could feel his leg lifting to take another step, his booted foot hitting the ground, moving him forward, propelling him towards this stranger. He noticed too late the perfect circle of flowers that surrounded the boy where he sat.

And then he was falling, the world rushing past him, air hissing, stinging his ears, falling until he couldn't fall anymore, and he hit the ground with a thud that shook his bones and knocked the wind from his lungs. He tried to inhale and failed, tried again, until his sore lungs sucked in a breath that seared him. 

Coughing, he realised he had sprawled across the very hard dirt in a very different clearing. There were no flowers in sight, only empty patches of packed earth and scattered clumps of grass and needles. Jean struggled against the ground to sit up, then quickly put his hand to his head; everything throbbed. 

A giggle cut him off. 

He glared at the young man, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stood before him, giant, long horizontal wings coloured like a red-grey moth stretching out on either side of his shoulders. Sparkly dust fell off those, too, and Jean tried not to focus on the freckles shimmering across his body, peeking out from the loose tan knit tunic he wore. 

"Who do you think you are?" Jean demanded, jaw jutted out in a certain air of haughtiness that he hoped would intimidate the faerie.

The giggling ensued. "I got you, I got you, it wasn't even as hard as I thought it would be!" His voice was almost singsong, cheering, and the faerie twirled, fistpumping the air in victory. The pure joy overtook him as he skipped in place, waving his arms wildly.

Jean snorted and, dusting himself off, rose. "I'm not sure exactly what you're referring to, so you better explain to me what's going on," he continued, eyes narrowing, chin raised. 

The faerie stopping dancing and stared at him. "You're here. There's not much else to explain." He flitted closer to Jean, who reflexively took a step back. Another grin flashed across the faerie's face. "Scared of me, hmm?"

Jean's hands curled into fists. "I'm not scared of you, but you have to admit the situation is a little off-putting. I was standing in a field one minute and now I'm in a dark clearing." The dirt was hard-packed beneath his feet and the trees grew very close together here, so that the floor was dark and swept with pine needles and leaves and brush. He crossed his arms. "I am an important person where I come from and I would like to return home," he added sternly. He knew from the cautionary tales he was told as a child to never reveal your name to a faerie lest they use it against you. "And I don't have a lot of time to waste, so if you could just point me in the direction I came from, that would be very appreciated."

The faerie studied him intently, eyes narrowed and focused, then pointed directly up at the sky. 

Jean gritted his teeth. "Are you serious right now? I didn't come from the sky. I want to go back home. I don't have wings, I can't fly. Please direct me home." 

The faerie cocked his head to the side and shook off his wings. Piles of shimmering dust cascaded to the floor. "Once you enter the Lost Forest, there's only one way to leave." He winked. "I can take you there," he paused, yawning, as if thinking about it, but then shrugged and added, "But I don't want to."

Jean wanted to claw his eyes out. Groaning, he stamped his foot. "Dickhead."

The faerie's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "That's not very nice. I'm definitely not taking you anywhere now," he professed, tilting his head to the side. That almost maniacal grin spread slowly across his face again.

Jean wanted to slap it right off, to grab and shake this faerie, to scream. Instead, he forced a breath out of his pursed lips and put a hand to his chin, then straightened. "I need to go home," he repeated, "And if you're not going to help me, I'll just have to figure it out on my own."

The faerie cackled. Stamping his feet on the ground, he almost bent in half with laughter, wings shaking furiously. "Good...luck..!" he wheezed between giggles, and finally wiped his brow as he straightened. "You won't find it. You don't even know where to go, and most of the fae in here would absolutely love to get hold of a vampire, especially an _important person where you come from_ ," he teased again. "But, if you don't need me, I guess I'll be off!" The faerie spread his wings and bent his knees, as if about to spring from the ground. 

Jean internally winced, but reached out, as if to grab him. "Wait!" The blow to his pride ached, but he had to get home. He hadn't expected to go that far into the forest, so maybe it wouldn't be too far to get out. "I mean. Just tell me where to go, and then you're off the hook." 

The faerie spun back around on one foot and let his wings fall, crossing his arms as he stared at Jean. “Me? All I did was invite you in. You're the idiot who one, entered the forest; and two, stepped into a faerie ring. You intrude on my home, insult me, and make demands that you have no right to make; and you have the nerve to tell me that I'll be 'off the hook?'” The faerie stepped close to him and placed an accusing finger to the center of his chest. “If I were any other faerie, you'd be dead right now.”

There was a dark look within the faerie's eyes that chilled Jean to his bones. Then, as quickly as the look came, it vanished and the faerie grinned widely at him again.

“But, you've managed to impress me with your complete and utter incompetence, so, I'll be your guide.”

Jean didn't like the sound of that, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. His only other option was to wander around in hopes that he'd eventually find his way out. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine, but you have to take me directly to the exit. No games.”

The faerie laughed and flicked Jean's forehead, “You aren't the brightest candle in the room, are you?” he asked, turning and leisurely strolling away. “You're in my domain, so I can do whatever I want. And if I want to play games, then I'll play games.” 

Jean's hands clenched at his sides, and he had to take another deep breath to keep from loosing his temper. Stories had always informed him to cautiously play by fae rules, never eat food from the fae realm, and to never tell them your name. But they didn't inform him on how damn annoying faeries could be. “Whatever. Just take me home.”

~  
“So, Mr. I'm Very Important, what's your name?”  
This was the third time that the faerie had asked him and Jean was tempted to tell him just to get him to stop asking. Instead he shook his head and answered once more. “No matter how many times you ask, the answer is still going to be the same.”

“I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

Jean groaned and glared at the his back, purposely avoiding the faerie's eyes from where he looked over his shoulder with a sly grin. “No.”

“You're such a sour puss,” the fae sighed and turned, walking backwards to look Jean up and down with pursed lips. “If you won't tell me your name, then I'll just have to give you one.” He was silent for a few moments, then snapped his fingers with an idea. “Got it! I'll just call you Twink. You look like one anyway, so it works out great!”

Jean sputtered, “Excuse you! That is not my name!” His eyes flashed in indignation. The faerie gave him a look as if to say, 'I know that,' and Jean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. This was going to be such a long journey. “Whatever, Freckles.”

“It's Marco.”

“Huh?”

“My name's Marco.”

Jean wasn't sure why, but knowing the faerie's name made it harder to stay mad at him.

As they walked, Jean noticed, that Marco's tunic had a bad habit of sliding off his shoulder. The constant bare skin glinted at him, as if taunting him, and trudging along behind the faerie, he found himself staring at that bare patch of skin and not much else. Anyway, if he let his eyes wander, he'd start looking at the sculpted back, fair, glimmering skin, the curve of his spine and butt. It was definitely safer to stay with his eyes rooted to that aggravatingly bare shoulder and not think about what any of the rest of Marco's body looked like naked.

The faerie hopped lightly over a root and the tunic's fabric flopped slightly, sliding down Marco's arm a little further, but he didn't seem to notice. Eyes narrowed, Jean hissed and reached forward to fix the fabric. He lightly picked it up and straightened it so it hung off Marco's shoulders properly.

The faerie whirled on him, stopping so short that Jean almost ran into him. "Umm... Excuse you." He stepped forward further, very much in Jean's space--he couldn't breathe without feeling like he was breathing right in Marco's face, and he feared if he did, he'd blow those glittering freckles right off his face.

Jean sneered at him in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "It kept falling down. Didn't your mother teach you to dress properly?"

"Ehhh..." Marco's eyes downcast, he stared at the floor, shrugged, and hugged himself.

Satisfied he'd gotten through to him some, Jean smirked. "Wear some clothes that fucking fit you, Freckles." Then maybe Jean wouldn't get so distracted that he'd just start feeling up that soft fabric again. 

The effect was instant. Eyes flashing, Marco's hands shot to his sides in fists. "Don't call me that. And I'll do whatever the hell I want to." He whirled again and made as if to start walking.

Jean followed fast on his heels. He'd changed Marco, put him in his place. It was about time, he thought. "Well, so will I," he declared, shoulders thrown back in arrogance. 

Marco gave him a side glance; the tunic had already slid down. "You can't. Against the rules."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I said so. And since I'm the Prince here, my word is rule. Also, watch your step." The faerie easily slipped off the ground, wings lightly beating the air with a whoosh. 

Jean stopped walking and watched the faerie. "Um, literally, why should I trust you?" Frustration had begun to drive him crazy. The constant circling, demanding, tricking--none of it was getting him anywhere, at all, and all he wanted was to go home. 

Well, if he was honest, that wasn't all he wanted, but he had a feeling this faerie had no intention of letting him see the rest of those freckles.

Marco spun in the air to look back at him, arms still crossed. "Fine. Walk into another hole."

Jean huffed, almost slipping on leaves. "Fine. Whatever." He stepped to the left. 

Marco turned to face toward the path again, touching down on the ground as if he had always been there, seamless and effortless. His wings melted into his back and Jean itched to touch the skin where they disappeared into a tattoo-like glamour. Then, the distant sounds of shouts and cries met Jean's ears and Marco groaned, stopping in his tracks causing Jean to almost run into his back. 

“What? What is it?”

Marco didn't answer, just groaned again, dragging his hands down his freckled face.

Jean peered over Marco's shoulder and in the distance saw a clearing, blinding with its vibrant colours and overwhelming with the smells wafting towards them. A large tree sat in the middle of the clearing, brilliant covered cloths in reds and yellows and pinks draped between it and the edges of the clearing. 

The vampire slipped past Marco and walked closer to the glade, entranced by its sheer radiance. The marketplace glowed, and the calls of the merchants drew Jean in. Never before had he been to a market as wonderous as this. As bright and enchanting and alluring. His breath caught in awe, struck by the brilliance. 

Without his bidding, Jean's feet brought him closer and closer to the market until he was lost in the crowd. Trapped behind hanging silks and glimmering wings, lost in the decadent smells and the overwhelming beaconing of strange-faced merchants. Beautiful people with all shades of skin and wings bustled from stall to stall, flitting, haggling, intent on their shopping. Piles of bread and cheese and baked goods covered a few tables, and Jean inhaled deeply. He knew he couldn't eat in the faerie world--and as a vampire, he'd lost most of his urges to eat any semblance of "regular" food--but the plump fruits and warm cakes had him longing to take a bite. 

Tearing his eyes away, Jean drifted forward. Everywhere he looked, dazzling wares, pots and jewellery and textiles, covered every surface. He stopped in front of a small booth, fingers dancing over the furs and silks and lace and linens.

“Pretty scarf for a pretty boy?” the merchant asked, holding out a delicate chiffon scarf, embroidered with ever-changing images and gemstones that glinted in the sunlight. He reached out to take it and a hand clamped down on his wrist, drawing his attention away long enough for the glamour to disappear and the colours in the scarf faded to dull browns and blacks.

Jean turned to meet a furious gaze; chestnut eyes lit with a fire that chilled his bones. Shivering, he found himself shifting uneasily in Marco's stormy gaze. He could feel himself growing smaller, shrinking under the piercing scrutiny of his faerie companion. 

But Jean was freed from the other's glare when the merchant spoke and Marco whirled on the man.

“O Your Royal Highness! Was he yours? Please, accept my humblest of apologies. Had I known there was already a claim on him I would never have--” The merchant twisted his hands together, beedy eyes narrow and far too bright--almost challenging. 

Marco's lips drew together in a thin line. Jean had never seen him stand so tall, so intimidating. His insides turned over. “Oh, hush, you pig. Begone, I'm not in the mood for your groveling. Sell your wares to someone more gullible.”

The merchant, who Jean could now tell actually had the snout of a boar, bowed deeply to Marco and turned his attention to another viewing his items. Marco tugged on Jean's arm, dragging him through the market, and, while Jean's mouth watered at the incredible scents of cheese and freshly baked bread, his eyes now revealed a truth to him that shook him. Rotting food stood stacked on tables and in baskets, wilted flowers had been crammed in large, cracked vases, and rough, torn burlap lay lank where silks had been moments before. Merchants with grotesque faces and knarled bodies called out to passerbys, and Jean cringed in horror.

Marco didn't speak to him until they reached the other end of the bazaar, face stoic and hardened, and even then it wasn't until Jean had wrenched his arm free of the faerie's bruising grip and demanded of him, “What _was_ that?”

“A Goblin Market.” Marco stared down at his the hand he'd had wrapped around Jean's wrist, clenching and releasing his fingers.

“A what?”

“A Goblin Market, you dunce. Doesn't the Otherworld have stories about them too? Or is it just Fae and the Lost Forest that you're wary of?” 

Jean stayed silent, waiting for Marco to continue. He licked his lips.

“They travel between worlds and sell their wares to unsuspecting travelers. Taking anything of theirs will leave you with an overwhelming need for more, but you can never find the market again, so you end up rotting away in a depressed state. It's a trap. A pure gimmick to get you addicted to something you can never have.” Marco straightened, and Jean didn't dare look him in the eyes. 

He stared instead at the tantalisingly bare shoulder, freckles glimmering, almost ominous. Swallowing, Jean clenched his fists for a moment, then took a deep breath. He unclenched them slowly. “So... You saved me?”

“Yes, obviously. When you get stuck in the Lost Forest, it's going to be because of me, not because of some stupid, sniveling, eyesore goblin!” Marco's wings unfurled then, beating furiously, and he stamped the ground with his feet, like a child throwing a tantrum. "You're mine!"

 _When_ , he'd said. When, not if. It hit Jean like a rock to his ribs, winding him. He wheezed--he was so stupid, so fucking stupid to think that he could trust the faerie. Of course Marco was only stringing him along until he could get Jean to slip up, until Jean talked to the wrong person or did the wrong thing and ended up bound in some sort of magic spell. He was stupid to believe that Marco actually saved him because he cared, or because he had any decency at all. 

He couldn't trust anything in the fae world, even the man that said he'd help him. Especially the man who said that he'd help him. Jean's jaw hardened, eye narrowed, he crossed his arms. "We'll see," he muttered, heart fluttering with the hot anxiety running up his arms. "Freckles."


End file.
